I went to St. Fatty's food bank today. It did not make me happy, but it did provide some relief from the anxiety I've been feeling lately.
Right now, I'm looking at the largess kindly provided by my fellow parishoners. A big box of Cheerios Mult-Grain. Chef Boyardee Mini Ravioli. Francesca Rinaldi "meat flavored" (what?) spaghetti sauce. Whole wheat pasta. Apparently, those who donate are concerned about my getting enough fiber. Plain dry spaghetti. Chick peas. Peanut butter and jelly. Two cans of green beans. And one of those huge boxes of cookies from Costco. Pancake mix and syrup. Instant mashed potatoes. A can of tuna. A pound of rice. A quart of milk. And a tube of frozen ground turkey.
I'm grateful, don't get me wrong. But I'm also slightly ashamed. The first time I went a month ago, I wasn't so embarrassed. This time I was, I don't know why.
One of the women who worked / volunteered at the food bank gave me the stink eye. Then again, I was so worked up about being there, it might not have been the stink eye at all.
On my way home, in a very, very roundabout way, I went to a farmers market. There I bought raspberries and blueberries on sale. I bought a little stick of President goat cheese. Carrots. Fresh Italian bread for my PBJ sandwiches. Yogurt.
Last time I went to the food bank, some thoughtful soul had donated turkey SPAM and I got the luck of the draw. I'd thought about anonymously returning it, but today I realized I could use it in one of my Indian concotions.
I have my own way of paying back St. Fatty's. Right now, all I've really got is time and I'm giving it back. The St. Fatty's Fair is coming up and I've volunteered to work in one of the booths. I'm also volunteering for a weekly duty. I doubt that it pays back the debt completely, but I'm trying.
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